


Madness Is Incomplete

by AnonyMissJ



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3510104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonyMissJ/pseuds/AnonyMissJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various vignettes with the potential for consecutive chapters of fiction based on Batman and Joker characters from Nolan's Dark Knight. Please read my fic 'Madness Is Like Gravity' for reference if you wish. Thank you for reading and indulging me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Permanence

_We can't let this whole... situ_ at _ion_ get  _to us too deeply, we can't afford to get all caugh_ t up _in those fluttery_ bat wings.  _But it's_ Brucie we _tangled with, not our beloved Bats. Bats is so-so_ simple _, so_ easy _to work with, but_ Brucie  _is_ _be_ yond  _con_ found _ing. I can't be_ lieve _we told him about, about..._

"No, no, that's over, that's past-passed, it's not real anymore."

 _Yes, not_ real _. Nothing that happened before now is real and now is ever-changing forever and ever. Time isn't real, even though clocks are. We_ hate _time most of all,_ some _times..._ _We_ had _to do it, we_ had  _to take them away. If it wasn't us, it would've been_ God  _or whatever people are calling fate nowadays._ We  _had to be fate,_ we  _had to take the control so as not to_ be  _controlled. If we couldn't do it to_  them _, then we couldn't do it to_ any _one_ _._  Prac _tice what you_ preach.  _We_ al _ways_ ha _ted_ hy _pocrites, couldn't_ be  _one too._ _There was no other way, no other way..._

 _"_ No... No other way. None."

 _We did the right thing._ Hah!  _There is no "right thing." There's only this or that or the other thing and their mother. Hah. There's only right now and here's this and there's that, so, what-do-we-do? We do what we_ did _, what we_ do _. What_ I _did..._

 _No-no-no,_  fo _cus, focus... So, what do we do_ now?  _Is the question to ask. If we keep tangling with Brucie we run the risk of going_ back _wards but if we leave him be, we may lose Bats as well and I don't know if I can do without either._

 _"_ WE, we, not 'I', never 'I'! That one isn't  _here_  anymore..."

Relax.  _A-hah, we'll just have to let what will happen be the way it is. For now,_ now _... let's stop this infernal_ think _ing._

* * *

It was all Bruce could think about, for days afterwards. He and the Joker were connected now in some intrinsic way that he could neither explain nor fully understand. The madman's convoluted philosophies had bloomed into comprehension like a dewy flower opening under the hot sun. A blood red flower.

He scoffed at the imagery, the romanticism of it. There wasn't-shouldn't be-anything romantic about this situation he and the Joker had found themselves in. When had their violent clashing become a tentative embrace? It had happened over time, minutes and hours stretching tautly over days and into weeks before settling almost comfortably between them in the past few months. If not comfortably, there was a definite sense of permanence now.

Permanence, he and the Joker. Bruce both feared and anticipated this future.

 


	2. Reunion, Part I

Weeks had passed since what Bruce mentally referred to as 'that night' had occurred, though it felt to him like months. Each subsequent evening without the Joker left him restless and painfully aware of his loneliness. Alfred had returned from England and was, as always, a comfort, but he couldn't be expected to keep Bruce company twenty-four hours a day. Since the unfortunate events involving Harvey Dent had occurred, Bruce could no longer patrol the streets of Gotham at night in his beloved bat suit to get away from himself. No, he was stuck here, by and with himself and he had no one and nothing to distract him from the ever-increasing visions of a slashed red smile seated smugly beneath the darkest green eyes he'd ever seen.

* * *

It's like being haunted by a ghost who still lives, this obsession. It is draining and all-encompassing. He can't focus on any work and there is much of that to be done. He needs to gather up his followers before the memory of him fizzles and fades out of their consciousness. He needs to reignite the fear of Gotham by carrying out some new grand scheme, something big, all lights and fireworks to get their attention. He's worked so hard to get where he is today and he's going to let a little black bat take it all away with one night's passion? A night that went on just long enough to make him realize he wants  _more_.

* * *

Bruce has taken to wandering the Narrows at night as neither himself nor Batman. He dresses simply and functionally all in black, long coats, sweats and running shoes. In the past couple of weeks he's managed to discover and stop some petty crimes quickly and discreetly. He needs no thanks or recognition, doing it now only to pass the time in longer strides between the memories and fantasies he's running away from.

Out and about in the middle of the night, he turns a corner into an alley to find a bum in a dirty brown trench coat vandalizing a brick building with a bottle of bright red spray paint. Squinting, he draws nearer to the man and sees the image he's creating: a crude illustration of Batman's cowl with a grinning slash of a mouth running across his cheeks. Bruce hears the soft currents of laughter a second too late and the bum whips around, throwing off the filthy coat to reveal a purple pinstriped suit. Violet gloves affix themselves to his collar and swing him around, pressing his back harshly into the damp wall. He looks into the fathomless eyes of the Joker and is flooded with relief. The madman cocks his head, aiming a crooked smile at him.

"Why,  _Bru_ cie!  _Funny_ seeing  _you_  here. Now,  _what_ could you be doing, ah,  _slum_ ming it around these parts so late at night?"

Bruce fights to stop himself from grinning back at the other man and answers him by kneeing him sharply in the stomach. The clown folds in on himself, wheezing with laughter.

" _Oh_ , he wants to p _lay!"_

The Joker slowly rises while Bruce circles him carefully, arms out in anticipation of an attack. Joker fixes him with a disarming smile and winks, throwing him off guard just long enough to sneak in an uppercut to his jaw followed by two more sharp hits to the ribs. Grimacing with the pain, Bruce growls and twists away from the blows, raining punches of his own upon the other man's chest and face. With alarming speed, Joker ducks low and barrels into him, an elbow to his gut, ramming him back into the brick wall behind them. He pins him there, his hands wrapped around Bruce's wrists, using his chest and hips to keep Bruce's body still and secure. Both men are panting, their breaths mingling visibly as white clouds in the crisp night air. Bruce's sweaty hair falls around his face, the only mask he keeps between them now, but the Joker's eyes find and lock onto his own. The clown blows the hair back from Bruce's brow, chuckling softly when Bruce closes his eyes to savor the cooling sensation.

"How long have you been comin' round these  _parts_ lookin' for me, hmm?" The Joker asks, only a hint of humor in his low voice. Bruce looks at him squarely, too exhausted to deceive.

"You're not an easy man to locate," he says simply. Joker smiles and Bruce's heart swells. Being the focus of those wild, glittering eyes is intoxicating.

"Seek and ye shall find, precious."

"What was your name?"  _I want to say it to you. I need to know you._

The Joker's grin is gone, the sparkle in his eye turned flinty. His grip on Bruce's wrists tightens painfully.

"I have been trying for years to forget the person that name was attached to. I won't let even you bring it back to me now." The dark green eyes falter and rest upon Bruce's parted lips. "Even you..."

His kiss is a bitter promise that still tastes of the sweetest victory to Bruce.


	3. Reunion, Part II

Somehow they end up in a darkened corner of that lonely alleyway in the Narrows, the both of them spattered with grime and blood, clutching at each other as they fight for dominance, desperate kisses taking the place of angry words. Bruce grabs the lapels of the Joker's now tattered suit and presses him up against the filthy concrete wall, insinuating a knee up and between the clown's legs as he pulls away to catch his breath. Joker moans and, infuriatingly, begins to laugh.

"Oh,  _Bru_ cie, is this your way of saying you  _missed_ me? Or don't you have anyone else to  _play pool_ with?"

Bruce knows to what he's referring and resents the taunting reminder of their last encounter in his game room. He sneers and bites down hard on the madman's neck, feeling a jolt of victory when he hears the other's high-pitched moan. He grinds his knee into the Joker's groin, gently enough to drag out pleasure along with pain.

"You know damn well there hasn't been anyone else," he growls into the Joker's ear, biting at the lobe for good measure. "Now, will you just _cooperate_  for once in your life and-"

Joker emits a sharp, yearning sigh as Bruce roughly cups his erection, at the same time forcefully gripping his right hand and pulling it down onto his own. Not one to be outdone, Joker slides his tongue across his lower lips and smirks.

"Oh, I'll co _-op_ erate, precious," he whispers darkly and, quick and sudden, switches their positions so Bruce's back is against the wall. "Aren't you in for a treat?"

Before Bruce can react, Joker gracefully falls to his knees, all the while looking into his eyes. Bruce realizes what his intentions are and swallows, unable to keep the uncertainty from showing in his face. Joker offers up a Cheshire grin and, with great deliberation, skims dancing fingers up Bruce's legs, catching them in the elastic waistband of his sweats so as to slowly lower them down to just above his knees. The sensation of the clown's leather-clad hands on his skin is intensely erotic and he only feels the chill of the night air for a second before the Joker's warm breath fans his thighs.

 


End file.
